


A Raven's Penance

by chiquislover25



Series: A Raven's Redemption [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bran is sorry, F/M, Targaryen Restoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiquislover25/pseuds/chiquislover25
Summary: Time has passed and he still waits. The Kingdoms are falling apart, starving, dying, but he still waits. He waits for the rightful rulers to return. He waits for the day where he can finally be free. Free from this crown, free from his mistakes and finally pay for what he and those around him did.  He waits for dragons.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: A Raven's Redemption [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750981
Comments: 13
Kudos: 81





	A Raven's Penance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I am officially done with finals Hooray! So I will try my best to pick up updating my stories. Originally A Raven's Remorse was supposed to be a stand-alone, open-ended one shot but the brain never works the way it is supposed to so I have made it a short three-part series instead. I hope you all like it!

He always wanted to be a knight.

Before being pushed out the window by Jaime Lannister he had hoped to one day be a brave knight like Barristan the Bold or Ser Arthur Dayne.

Then after the fall, he began to have visions and soon wished to become the greatest green seer.

Never once did he want to be king. Yet a crown was placed upon his head by his sisters. A crown they had made sure to strip away from the rightful owners and bestow onto the one person who would give them what they wanted, not once caring who was hurt in the process. They along with Lord Tyrion got what they wanted and he was made to carry the title of King with all the responsibilities that came with it.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

It was a wise saying, one that none but those who bare the title of a monarch can dare to comprehend.

There was a reason the Targaryens and the Targaryens alone were able to bear this crown for as long as they did. 

They had the strength, the power, the magic to keep Seven Kingdoms together. They had dragons, they had love, compassion, ruthlessness, and brutality that were necessary to keep everyone in order and the wisdom to know when to use them.

The Baratheons failed, the Lannisters failed, and now the Starks are failing as well.

He tried his best, used the knowledge at his disposal to help the realm, but it wasn’t enough.

Winter was here and with it famine, disease, and death. The man Lord Tyrion had made Master of Coin had led the realms into deeper debt, Essos had stopped trading with them, Dorne and the Iron Islands were going to rebel at any moment and the North was ready to revolt against Sansa who pleaded for help almost at a daily basis.

But if his visions are correct, all this is going to come to an end.

His door slams open and he sees his Hand and two King guards completely out of breath looking both terrified and disheveled.

“Your Grace… someone…in… the throne room… demands to see you,” Tyrion pants out.

“The intruder killed the guards that tried to stop him. He said that if you don’t meet with him he’ll keep killing,” Brienne adds.

He nods in understanding and gestures to Podrick to help push him towards the throne room. His guards stand close as they enter and he sees a hooded figure staring at the harden molten metal that was once the Iron Throne.

He never had it removed, not that anyone would have been able to. It served as a reminder to him of the impermanence of his reign, how he and his family had destroyed that throne, and those who were meant to sit upon it.

“I should have killed you the last time I saw you. I should have killed you all,” the hooded figure says, not looking away from the melted iron.

His guards all tense up as does Lord Tyrion and prepare to unsheathed their swords before he waves them off. Instead of answering, he nods, even though he knows he’s not being seen.

“And that would have been your right. It still is if you want it,” he offers, knowing that its only right to do so.

“My King,” Lord Tyrion tries protesting making the hooded figure tense.

“I see you still have the traitor working for you,” the man growls and Lord Tyrion takes offense at this.

“I am no traitor, I am loyal to my King,” Tyrion answers.

The figure laughs, an eerie laugh that causes chills to run down the spines of everyone in the room.

“Loyalty? Come now dwarf, you and I know better than anyone how ‘loyal' you can be. You did send me to kill your previous monarch after all.”

Realization seems to come to his Hand as he begins to pale.

“Jon?” Lord Tyrion questions.

The man standing before them removes his hood and turns to face them. There standing before them is Jon Snow. No. Not Jon Snow.

Aegon Targaryen.

His hair has been cut short, shorter than it has ever been. He wears all black armor beneath the cape he was using to conceal himself, easily confused for a man of the Watch. However, he sees otherwise. He sees hints of red, dragons engraved into the armor, and most of all the lack of Longclaw. Instead, another blade, one more befitting who he is, rests upon his hip.

“What… what is the meaning of this? You should be at the Wall. You were sentenced there…” Tyrion starts.

“Interesting that the murder of the Queen involved us both and yet I was the only one sentenced,” his cousin points out.

“You killed her, not Lord Tyrion, you were tried and sentenced!” Brienne calls out.

“Aye I was tried but not at my trial but that of Lord Tyrion where he named Bran king. How does that make any sense?” Jon asks.

There’s a moment of silence where everyone for once actually questions what occurred that day.

“But regardless, I did not go to the Wall. I would rather die again than go back to that place,” his cousin declares.

“Jon, it was for your protection. The Unsullied and Dothraki would not have killed you...” Tyrion starts.

“They should have! Both you and I should have been killed for what we did!” Aegon interrupts but Tyrion persists.

“Sansa, Arya, and I believed you would be happy up there,” Tyrion adds as if addressing a toddler and Aegon scoffs at the man, his anger rising even more.

“Happy? Happy?!” he yells. “No one has ever cared about my happiness! Not you, not the two women who call themselves my sisters, no one! My happiness was what you had me killed Tyrion!”

The Lord Hand at least has the decency to grimace.

“Why are you here, Aegon?” he asks bringing the attention to the topic at hand. A smirk forms on the Targaryen’s face.

“You know why cousin, you did see it happening after all,” Aegon responds and he nods in understanding.

“What are you talking about? What did his Grace see?“ Brienne asks.

“Five years ago, Bran saw a vision, one where the rightful rulers returned and fixed the mess created by the last remaining Lannister and the Starks. So here we are ready to take back what is ours and save the Seven Kingdoms,” his cousin proudly declares.

“We?” Tyrion asks.

And as if summoned the click of boots hitting the floor alerts them of their new companion. All eyes turn to see who accompanies the rightful King.

Lady Brienne and Podrick frown taking their blades out, Lord Tyrion pales and sways near faint and he himself grins.

There, walking into the room in matching black armor is Daenerys Targaryen, looking even more like the dragon warriors of legend. The braids that once formed a crown upon her head and marked her victories long gone now replaced by short hair just like Aegon’s. The reasons for it become obvious as a roar shakes the Red Keep followed by smaller but equally as terrifying roars.

Not once does she spare a glance in their direction not even as his guards prepare to attack. She only stops when she reaches the steps where the Iron Throne once sat.

“When they told me it had been melted down, I could not believe it. The entire legacy of my family turned into a puddle of nothing,” her cold voice speaks. “And yet it was exactly what I planned to do once I conquered Kings Landing; meltdown the Throne and destroy the wheel Aegon himself had put in place. Have the people be able to rule themselves and stop being crushed by those above them.”

She turns to glare at them, her gaze burning.

“But you all made sure that could never happen,” she says.

“Y…you should be d…dead,” Tyrion stammers.

“Next time you send someone to kill another, make sure to order a beheading, it is harder to bring back that way,” she answers coldly, seeming to ignore the slight grimace Aegon makes.

“You killed thousands, it had to be done,” Tyrion tries justifies.

“I was poisoned,” she says, showing no emotion. “I was poisoned by the little birds of your friend Varys with Basilisk venom. But it matters not, now. I’m back and I have come to claim what is mine.”

She stuns those in the room who did not know the truth into silence. They all turn to him for confirmation and Tyrion pales even more upon the nod of his head.

“Be that as it may, Bran is now the King. A king that was chosen by the people,” Tyrion says trying to calm himself.

A cold laugh fills the room. Twice now does the laugh of his cousin cause chills to run through the bodies of those in the room. Aegon eventually stops after a moment as Daenerys simply raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Chosen by the people? **I** was chosen by the people. **I** was chosen by the Unsullied. **I** was chosen by the Dothraki. **I** was chosen by the thousands of freed slaves who call me mhysa to this day. I wasn’t chosen by stuffy Lords, or by greedy masters who only wished to keep getting richer and fatter while everyone around them starved and fought for dear life. I was chosen by the people, by those who had no one else to stand for them until I came alone,” Daenerys says.

Arguments break out as insults begin to be hurled at each other mostly from his own people’s side. The two monarchs simply stand there only responding when necessary but otherwise remaining composed.

He halts all movement and all talk with a simple hand raise.

“Daenerys,” he calls out bringing her attention towards him. He carefully removes the crown from his head and holds it in his hands. “I was never meant to wear this. I have apologized to Aegon and now apologize to you. My family, those here in this room, and all the Lords that sat in Winterfell and the Dragonpit have wronged you,” he holds out the crown towards her. It belongs to you.”

He hears the protests around him but he ignores them, making sure to keep eye contact with the rightful Queen. Not once does she break the eye contact as she walks towards him. Aegon follows close behind her, his hand firmly on the hilt of the legendary sword of House Targaryen. It’s nearly imperceptible but her hand trembles as she takes the crown from him.

She looks at it for a moment, running her fingers across the designs.

“Throughout the years that I called myself a Queen, I never once wore a crown,” she confesses with sudden emotion in her voice. Her eyes looking yearnful and melancholy. But just as it came, the emotion leaves. “Thank you for the crown, Brandon Stark. I am sure it is not the first that I will siege, but it is the only one that will be handed to me willingly.”

She looks up from the crown to look at him one last time. 

“Seize them.”

Podrick and Brienne are quickly surrounded by the Queen’s men leaving them no choice but to surrender their weapons. He sees Grey Worm come out from behind the shadows and receives the crown from the hands of Daenerys.

“Take them to the cells, no one is to be harmed,” she orders, and her men immediately obey.

The last thing he sees in the throne room is Daenerys leaning into Aegon’s arms and two small silver-haired figures walking towards the monarchs.


End file.
